


Tipsy

by hannahhoppers



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, their "night off" gets out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahhoppers/pseuds/hannahhoppers
Summary: “You’re right. I think we do deserve a night off.”“Rum?” “You know it.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at 2 AM. Don't judge.

“You’re right. I think we do deserve a night off,” she said, draping her coat over the back of a chair. 

 

“Rum?” 

 

“You know it.”

 

            He pulled the bottle and two tumblers from the cabinet, then set them down and poured a drink for each of them. To hell with all of this Storybrooke drama. 

 

“Cheers,” she smiled, raising her glass. They toasted and gulped, hot amber sloshing down their throats. 

 

            Wash, rinse, repeat.

 

            By ten, they had each had about a half of a bottle of rum apiece, and were well on their way to polishing off the next one within the next half hour. 

 

“We should do something,” she slurred, stealing a sip from his glass. 

 

“And what do you suggest?” It was said with a lopsided grin, as he plucked his drink from between her fingers and downed it. Emma could hold her alcohol, make no mistake, but he could take far more. A few centuries of pubs and piracy could do that to you. He watched the contemplative twinkle in her eye as she wracked her brain for some activity for their tipsy selves. 

 

            After some time, she said, “A puzzle.”

 

“Of what sort?”

 

“A jigsaw puzzle. Yeah. That’s what we should do.”

 

“Jigsaw puzzle it is. Where can we get one?”

 

“I dunno. We should go find one.” She leaped up from her perch on the kitchen chair, destabilizing both the seat and herself as she did so. Killian clumsily caught her from catching the ground, but the chair did not receive the same treatment. It clatter to the ground, causing Emma to turn and pout at it. “That was rude.”

 

“That’s a chair, love.”

 

“And I’m a princess. So?”

 

“Alright, Princess. What were we doing?”

 

“I don’t know.” She dropped to the floor, sitting on the hardwood where her seat had been a moment ago. Her head rested on two fists, elbows propped up on her knees. “We were gonna go somewhere when _someone_ interrupted us.”

 

“Who was that?”

 

“I think it was the chair, but I’m not sure.”

 

“Well what did he interrupt?”

 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out!”

 

“What a puzzle.”

 

“That’s it!”

 

“What’s it?”

 

“A puzzle!”

 

“Aye, it is a puzzle. What were we going to do?”

 

“Killian, we were going to do a puzzle. A jigsaw puzzle, remember?”

 

“Right, right. Jigsaw puzzle. Do we have one of those?”

 

“I think I can make one.”

 

“A’right.” She offered a hand for him to pull her up with; he complied and she stumbled into the living room. She clapped her hands.

 

“Jigsaw puzzle.” Nothing happened. “I said Jigsaw puzzle!”

 

“I don’t think you’re doing it right.”

 

“Oh yeah, Mister Wizard? Show me how to do it.”

 

“Well I don’t have magic, but you do, but you’re not doing it right. I think you’re supposed to wave your hands around, like this.” He demonstrated, nearly knocking a lamp off the table in the process. She tried it. 

 

“It isn’t working.” 

 

“Well you have to magic it too. You can’t just wave your hands around.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I dunno, love. I think some wizard with a beard made it up.”

 

“Why do I have to listen to him, though?” He shrugged, and they lapsed into silence. An intense look of concentration took over her face.

 

“You alright, love?” She nodded, and scrunched her features up further. Another few moments of silence, and then, 

 

“JIGSAW PUZZLE!” 

 

            He nearly fell off the couch. But a few puzzle pieces appeared on the coffee table. 

 

“It worked!”

 

“Well, duh,” she muttered. “I can do _magic_ , Killian.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Let’s do our puzzle!” 

 

            They embarked on the task, but there was an issue. She had only created three pieces of a much larger puzzle, only two of which fit together. He clicked them in place and she laid out what they had before them. 

 

“There. Perfect.”

 

“What’s it supposed to be?” He just couldn’t decipher the picture.

 

“I’m not sure. I think you’re supposed to call it modern art.”

 

“Oh. Isn’t art for museums, in this realm?”

 

“Yeah. We should put it in a museum.”

 

What followed this was the pair of them trying (in vain) to find a Storybrooke Modern Art Museum on Google. Emma slumped, sad, when they couldn’t find anything. 

 

“Hey, Swan. Don’t be sad.”

 

“But we can’t show everyone our art!” she pouted. Killian didn’t hear this, too distracted by his task of using his fingers to angle the corners of her frown upward. When he let go, though, they drooped again. 

 

“Please stop being sad.”

 

“But they should all get to see it!”

 

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do, then,” he grinned. Her face lit up. “We’ll take a picture of it on my talking-phone and send it to everyone in town.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Of course.” He searched the living room for his phone, before finding it in his back pocket. “Here it is.” Emma turned it on for him, and they took the shot together (her holding the camera unsteadily over their three-piece puzzle, him leaning in close and tapping the button on the glowing screen). She then started a new group chat with every contact in his phone. They discussed the message to send.

 

“How ‘bout ‘Look at this that we made. It was supposed to be a puzzle but we didn’t have all the pieces so it’s modern art now but don’t you like it Killian and I made it together.’”

 

“You’re brilliant, love, but they’ll know it’s modern art, won’t they?”

 

“Yeah but what if they can’t tell?”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“Just send it, please?”

 

“As you wish,” he smiled, before tapping out what she’d dictated and clicking send. Then, Emma plucked the phone from his hands and tossed it onto the couch on the other side of the room. She missed, and it thumped to the floor. 

 

            They didn’t move for a while, until Emma suggested tequila. Killian went to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle.

 

            Between gulping sips, lips wrapped messily around the rim of the container (he forgot the shot glasses, not that either of their hands were steady enough to pour shots by that point), Emma became cuddlier and cuddlier. Apparently drunk Emma equaled affectionate Emma. 

 

“You’re like a rainbow, you know,” he mumbled into her hair.

 

“Why’m I a rainbow?”

 

“All your stuff. Yellow car, red jacket, blue house, green eyes, you know. Colors. You’re a special rainbow and I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

“You just aren’t purple.”

 

“We should change that. I need a purple.”

 

“And an orange,” he added.

 

“Any others, or just purple and orange?”

 

“Well, I had a friend who could tell you all the colors of the rainbow but I think I lost him. But I think you have all the colors.”

 

“Except the orange and the purple.”

 

“Why don’t you have the orange and the purple?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Well, you should fix that.”

 

“Here. Let me magic us orange and purple.”

 

“Can I be orange and you be purple?”

 

“But I wanted you to be purple,” she whined. 

 

“How about we’re orange and purple both at the same time?”

 

“I guess. But I’m still making you more purpley than orange.”

 

“If it makes you happy, Swan.”

 

“Yeah.” She waved her hands a few times, to no effect. “Colors!” She yelled, wiggling her fingertips. After a few minutes of this, she succeeded. Killian was largely purple, with a few orange polka dots here and there, and she was striped plum and tangerine. 

 

“Now I’m really a rainbow.”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Killian, are you tired?”

 

“I think I am. I’m not sure. Am I tired, love?”

 

“I dunno. I’m kinda tired.”

 

“You should go to sleep then.”

 

“Will you come sleep with me?”

 

“Oh, I’d love to sleep with you.” His words, though slurred, nearly broke under the weight of the innuendo he placed on them. 

 

“Not like that,” she said, smacking his arm. “But I like it when you curl up around me.”

 

“Okay, then. Where are we going to sleep?” She shrugged. He stood and pulled her up with him, and they began to wander around the house. They made stops in the dining room, the laundry room, and even their bedroom before making their way into the kitchen. 

 

“Here is good,” she said, laying down next to the chair she’d knocked over earlier. Killian took his jacket off and put it over her shoulders before lying down next to her. “G’night.”

 

“G’night, love.”

 

✭❀✭

 

            On the other side of town, the pair’s sober family members were bickering over who was going to go check on them. Regina was eventually chosen— she, at least, could do some magical damage control if Emma’s powers had gotten out of hand.

 

            The ex-queen arrived in the entry hall in a puff of purple smoke. She wandered through the house, observing the empty tequila and rum bottles in the family room, as well as the incomplete puzzle. A moment later, she found Emma and Killian tangled up under the kitchen table, a chair knocked over, and their skin turned orange and purple. She elected to leave that addition for them to discover in the morning. In the meantime, though, she teleported them to bed and magicked away the bottles, stains, and puzzle. Afterwards, she set out two glasses of water, enough Advil for the two of them, and some memory potions, with a note: _Should you be unable to remember whatever transpired last night, and wish to regain those hours. —R_. The pair would definitely have some explaining to do the following morning.

 

✭❀✭

 

            The first thing Emma Swan noticed was that it was far too early to be awake. 

 

            The second was that she had a murderous hangover, and she knew enough to know that no magic could cure one. 

 

            The third was that her parents were in the doorway of her bedroom. 

 

            After checking to make sure that both she and her pirate were adequately covered, she croaked, 

 

“What are you guys doing here?”

 

“We made some headway into the evil queen issue and thought you two would like to know,” her mother responded. Loudly. Emma cringed, and made a “lower your volume” gesture with one hand, shielding her eyes from the sun with the other. 

 

“What I’d like to know is why you’re purple,” her father said with mirth. 

 

“What?”

 

“Hook, too.” 

 

            She rolled her pirate over, only to discover that he was, indeed, covered in purple. Her own hand was striped in the same color, interspersed with a shade of orange so bright it was practically offensive to the eyes. 

 

“I don’t know, guys. But I have a screaming hangover and need a chance to wake up, so can we meet you at Granny’s in an hour?”

 

“We’ll be there,” Snow chirped, before tugging David out of the house. Emma woke Killian up. 

 

“Bloody hell,” he croaked.

 

“Morning.”

 

“Morning, love.” He leaned in and pecked her lips before scrubbing a hand over his face. “How much did we drink last night? And why am I purple?”

 

“No idea. Regina left a memory potion on my nightstand. Think it’s worth it?”

 

“Aye, might as well.” He looked over and found the same by his own side of the bed. They uncorked the little vials. “Cheers.”

 

            A grimace at the taste.

 

            Bits and pieces flashing back into their memories.

 

            And then…

 

“Oh my God. I yelled at a chair.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the show or the characters, so I'm playing with them. Adam and Eddy have such nice toys. Unbeta'd. Kudos and comments if you enjoy!


End file.
